


Shattered

by Fyre



Series: A Little Kindness [16]
Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, Slow Show - mia_ugly
Genre: Alternative Perspective
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-17
Updated: 2020-02-17
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:36:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22774258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fyre/pseuds/Fyre
Summary: It ought to be simple.It ought to.After all, he’d told Gabriel of all people. Telling Crowley shouldn’t be any different. Crowley already knew the reason behind it all, and yet, there’s weight to this, fathomless depths to it, that Avery was terrified to plumb. And… and so much more to say. He’d tried. He sent several messages, all of them marked as read, but every one of them unanswered.
Relationships: Anthony J. Crowley/Avery Fell (Slow Show)
Series: A Little Kindness [16]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1628107
Comments: 41
Kudos: 154
Collections: Slow Show Metaverse





	Shattered

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mia_ugly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mia_ugly/gifts).



> Hi. I'm still weak. Also, I like inflicting pain. Hi.

It ought to be simple.

It ought to.

After all, he’d told _Gabriel_ of all people. Telling Crowley shouldn’t be any different. Crowley already knew the reason behind it all, and yet, there was weight to this, fathomless depths to it, that Avery was terrified to plumb. And… and so much more to say. He’d tried. He sent several messages, all of them marked as read, but every one of them unanswered.

So they’d returned to work, greeted each other like colleagues, polite smiles across the table, and Avery tried not to let too much of his cracked heart show on his sleeve. The script didn’t help, not a jot, William’s fear and longing far too easy to tap into.

It helped, having other people there. He was always better hiding in a crowd, keeping up appearances and all that.

Still, after the rest of the company scattered, he hovered anxiously outside the conference room door, script curled into a tube in his hands, squeezed to the point of crumpling at the edges.

It was one thing to see him across the table in a room full of people.

Seeing him alone, right in front of him, Avery’s voice deserted him. “How are you?” he managed, trying so very hard to gather himself, the crack in the words betraying him.

“I’m – good.” Crowley had never looked so stiff and taut because of him. Not even that day. Not even at the bandstand. “Yeah. I’m– yep.” He smiled, but it looked like more of a pained grimace. “Good,” he lied so smoothly. “How are you?”

Terrible, Avery wanted to scream out. Miserable. Lost. Desperately, hopelessly in love.

“I’m well,” he lied too, almost as smoothly, if not for his hand betraying him, running nervously through his hair. Lord, it shouldn’t be _this_ hard. “Congratulations again. I haven’t had the chance to say it personally.”

Crowley gave him another of those tight-lipped not-smiles. “No worries,” he said, fidgeting spasmodically with the fringe of his scarf. It _hurt_ to see him to tangibly distressed, to know he – Avery – was the cause. “Got your texts.”

Avery swallowed hard. Bite the bullet. Now or never. Spit it out. “I was hoping I might– talk to you. There’s something–”

“Sure, go ahead.” On anyone else, it might have been flippant. Glib, even, but on Crowley the interruption was something else entirely. Self-preservation, keeping them at arm’s length, sharp and short and this is not personal, this is strictly _not_ personal.

As if they weren’t even… not even close to being friends.

And Avery found it was possible for an already cracked and brittle heart to break that little bit more.

“All right,” he said, swallowing down the crushed glass of that knowledge. “Um. Tracy and I are–” Lord, it sounded so _stupid_ telling him, like this, as if it could repair things, as if it could make any difference. “Separating.”

Crowley blinked at him, said nothing.

“ _Have_ separated,” Avery hastily corrected. “I wanted to tell you but–” Unanswered messages. The cold chasm between them. He smiled uncertainly. No, not smiled. His mouth curled up, but it couldn’t be a smile. “There wasn’t a chance.”

And Crowley still stared. “Oh.” Wide dark eyes, confused line between his brow, throat bobbing as he swallowed. “I– I’m sorry. I’ve been busy.”

Avery squeezed the rolled script tighter. Cut to the bone and deeper and he couldn’t stop. “Yes. Well. We’re releasing and official statement this week, but I” – and there’s the rub – “I wanted you to know first.”

He didn’t expect the expression on Crowley’s face. Didn’t expect him to ask, “Is Trace okay?”

“Yes, she is.” That, Avery _could_ manage a smile about. “She’s doing very well–”

“I’ll give her a call when I get home,” Crowley cut across him again, another blade rasping across the cracks on his heart. Deliberate this time. Sharp and pointed and why why _why_ can’t they stop hurting each other like this _?_ “Let her know I’m thinking about her.”

“Yes, but–” Avery tried again, picking up the fragments of his heart, gathering up the cracked bits and holding them out in tentative, shaking hands with three little words, “Anthony–”

“Maybe the two of you can work it out, who knows?” It was like an unexpected backhand. “One day. Never say never.”

And Crowley looked as stricken by the words coming out of his mouth as Avery felt. Self-defence, Avery thought numbly, striking out before he could be stricken. No wonder when Avery had lied and hidden and pushed him away. Why did he assume things could– might–

“Yes,” he said blankly. Nodded. “Of course.”

And Crowley smiled, knife-sharp and painful, and severing them as neatly as a vein.

“Well,” he said and the walls were up and the defences were in place again, as they had never been, not since the first time Avery had met him. Like they were only colleagues. Nothing more. “You take care of yourself. I’ll… see you tomorrow.”

“All right,” Avery said softly, though it felt like his chest had been torn open and everything has spilled out onto the floor. All right, because he understood why Crowley needed to retreat behind his walls. All right, because what right had he to expect more when he was one who had cracked them apart? All right, because… because sometimes, you need a safe lie.

And Crowley turned, rigid and taut, and walked away.

And Avery’s hands shook as he retreated to his trailer, as he sat down quietly in the dark, as he wept.


End file.
